


Two-Step

by AdelaCathcart



Category: Road House (1989)
Genre: Casual Sex, F/M, Friendship, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Mind your own business Dad, New Hampshire for some reason, Safe Sex/Use of Condom, Wade Garrett's the best
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:24:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22073017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdelaCathcart/pseuds/AdelaCathcart
Summary: He does it all so casually, just as if they’re two friends dancing again instead of tasting each other’s tongues. “You do this often, with his women?”“Not hardly.” There’s a hitch like pain in his voice, which she chooses to ignore. “All the same, I wouldn’t mention it to him,” he adds.Elizabeth recalls herself nude and well-fucked, huddled on the barn roof, begging Dalton not to leave town. The longing was sincere, she knew then she was falling in love, but her own plaintive voice still rings painfully in her mind. What good is it, making plans for the future, trying to strike a deal with someone hellbent on hurting you? They owe each other nothing, she tells herself, not without regret. To Wade, whose hands are loosely curled in her hair, she replies, “I’m not his woman.”
Relationships: Elizabeth "Doc" Clay/Wade Garrett
Comments: 3
Kudos: 4





	Two-Step

**Author's Note:**

> _Wade: God, he's great coming out of the gate, but not much for stamina.  
Doc: This the part where you say how great your friend is?  
Wade: HardIy. This is the part where I tell you I want you for myseIf.  
Dalton: Uh, yo! Whatever he's saying, you can be fairIy sure it's a Iie.  
Wade: Don't bet on it. _

He’s bowlegged, stumbling drunk, and she’s mopped up enough motorcycle accidents to insist on driving him home, but by the time she pulls her red Jeep into the deserted motel parking lot—not a lot of tourism in Jasper, not at this time of year or any other—he’s got her giggling like a kid over some exploit that could easily have gone so wrong but he tells it like just another crazy night, one of those things, you live and you learn, and she hears him pop his seat belt and realizes she doesn’t quite want to let him go. So as Wade Garrett sucks in some air for the “welp” that will draw the night to a close, Elizabeth unbuckles her own seat belt and pulls him into a hug that could be merely cordial if she kept it quick, which she doesn’t. Instead she pauses to smell his hair (cigarette smoke, motor oil and Stetson), nuzzles his rough-shaven cheek, feels his hands go loosely to her back. She lets the sense of possibility hang there between them for a moment while she’s half in his lap, and just because it feels right she takes his jaw in her hand and pulls his mouth to hers. 

He tastes of whiskey, which is to be expected, and his kiss is soft and noncommittal—were she inclined, she could still shrug it off as a friendly goodnight in the morning. She rests her hand lightly on the back of his neck, chuckling a little because she’s rarely this impulsive, and she peers into his eyes in the orange streetlight glow to see whether she’s just pushed her luck. His expression is opaque but he reaches up to stroke her face, the side of his index finger cresting her cheekbone, a caress that might pass for avuncular as long as they both ignore how her heart is pounding. “Goddamn, you’re beautiful,” he smiles, not meeting her gaze. “Boy can that kid pick ‘em.”

Well, he’s put it out on the table now. That’s probably for the best. To prove the thought of Dalton won’t deter her, she kisses him again and this time his mouth opens under hers, his arms wind around her waist and pull her close. As she slips from her bucket seat to his she has the presence of mind to yank the emergency brake. Wade kisses like a pro, matching and answering her every move, and he does it all so casually, just as if they’re two friends dancing again instead of tasting each other’s tongues. They could be practicing under the bleachers. “You do this often, with his women?”

“Not hardly.” There’s a hitch like pain in his voice, which she chooses to ignore. “All the same, I wouldn’t mention it to him,” he adds.

Elizabeth recalls herself nude and well-fucked, huddled on the barn roof, begging Dalton not to leave town. The longing was sincere, she knew then she was falling in love, but her own plaintive voice still rings painfully in her mind. What good is it, making plans for the future, trying to strike a deal with someone hellbent on hurting you? They owe each other nothing, she tells herself, not without regret. To Wade, whose hands are loosely curled in her hair, she replies, “I’m not his woman.”

He embraces her again, his lips playful on hers, palms cradling the small of her back to steady her as she folds her coltish legs around him. He dips his head to press a kiss to her neck, and his hands slip up to cup her breasts, thumbs brushing her nipples as she kisses his mouth more deeply. She grabs the headrest to force him closer, and through his jeans his erection bumps up against her. 

“You sure you wanna do this, Doc?” 

“Yeah, I’m sure. Are you?”

“Never been surer. I wouldn’t mind a change of venue.”

“Invite me to your room.”

Wade shifts his weight to one hip so he can fish the motel key out of his back pocket, jingling the plastic tag absently against his palm. He’s wearing a smirk, but not an unkind one, and his voice is low and tender as he looks into her eyes and gestures with his chin towards the motel. “C’mon back to my room.”

A grin splits her face wide open and dazzling, pure delight bubbles out of her, totally involuntary and as welcome as springtime. She sees her pleasure mirrored like sunshine on his face and they’re laughing together at how easy it is for a couple of old hands to say the right things at the right time.

“Thanks. I’d love to.”

Giddy but not ungraceful, she pops the passenger door open, slipping lightly off his thighs down to the gravel, and tugging him playfully by the hand as he staggers out behind. He takes a moment to steady himself, smiling like fate is dealing him yet another lucky hand, then slides his hand up her arm to hold her by the waist, guiding her up the concrete walk to his door and unlocking it one-handed so he doesn’t have to let her go. The room is dark when he cracks it open. He flattens himself against the threshold to let her go through first but she pulls him close behind her, walking backwards into the room and dropping blindly to the unmade bed when it bumps her calves. He kneels before her on the linoleum, kissing her chest, neck and shoulder, before leaning far to the side of her to switch on the bedside lamp. The reach hitches up his shirt, giving a crescent glimpse of the scar on his tan, lean-muscled flank.

“Little light on the subject,” he mutters. “Make yourself at home, Doc. I need a minute to freshen up.” He plants a kiss on the top of her head as he stands.

In his absence she takes stock of the motel room. It’s a dive for sure, but cosy, with the with what looks like the owner’s paint-by-number landscape over the double bed, depicting in precise blotches of pigment the type of cornflower mountains and crystalline brooks you rarely see in Missouri. She notices things like that after the six years she spent in Hanover. She’d shed the worst of her drawl by undergrad, but New England always made her feel a little like a bumpkin, everything built-up, settled down and cold. Still, it’s pretty country up there, and she treasures her memories of hiking in the White Mountains, rafting in Quechee Gorge, motorcycles at the Wiers at midsummer. Has Wade ever been? Someday maybe she’ll go back for a visit. With all the years she’s spent worried sick over her patients and her men, she deserves the chance to do a little drifting.

Wade’s travel wardrobe spills from a set of worn leather panniers by the bed. It looks like another pair of black jeans, a couple of plain white undershirts, and a chambray button-down, loosely folded. His lifestyle may be minimal but he doesn’t share his protege’s asceticism. He’s only been in town a couple of days but the spent beer cans on the dresser look more like a week’s worth. The ashtrays have been emptied but not wiped. There are socks on the floor. Elizabeth doubts he’d planned to entertain tonight. Maybe he’s giving her the chance to second-guess herself and leave. This is the room of a man on the run. Instead she lays back, closing her eyes, inhaling his scent where it lingers in the soft old sheets. 

“Still with me, Doc?” he croons when he slips out of the bathroom. She sits up on her elbows and looks at him doe-eyed to show she’s wide awake.

“You bet.” She’s grinning like a toothpaste ad. “Where were we?”

He stands a little ways from her and holds up a small flat packet between his first two fingers. “Being a gentleman, I wouldn’t presume to know precisely what you have in mind. But just so you know where one is, should you want it…” He places the thing within reach on the night stand. 

It’s a Magnum.

Elizabeth chuckles, reaching out for him, and he eases over her with his face close to hers, and his dark eyes are surprisingly stern. He’s always so easy to be around, there’s a lightness like an April breeze in his careless manner, but now she senses the dark anchor somewhere deep inside, a mortal wound that taught him early not to sweat the small stuff, and grief is the ballast that keeps him even-keeled. His weight is on one forearm and the other, behind her back, pulls her close, and this kiss is the most serious yet, deep and forceful, now that he’s convinced she means to go all the way. Eagerly, she matches his intensity, turning them on their sides and pulling up his shirt so she can stroke his hairy belly. Her fingertips are ghostlike over the scar, because sometimes a cut that ugly can still hurt for years after it looks healed. Instead her touch creeps up under the shirt, scratching lightly at his chest hair, the softest experimental pluck at his nipple, palming his breast to feel his heartbeat, then reaching around behind to feel the muscles of his back, how they shift beneath her hands as he moves with her. He’s not built like Dalton, but his body is lean and well-defined, and clearly he knows how to use it.

She rolls him to his back, straddling his hips, and pulls him half-upright, tugging his shirt up so he yanks it over his head. She rewards him with big soft kisses over his breast and shoulders, inhaling deeply from the center of his chest, where he’s started to sweat. Wade reaches behind her to slip off her heels, and then to grasp her ass and run his hands up and down her thighs, bunching the short skirt of her dress up around her waist. His hands go around her hips, fingertips lightly tracing the shape of her thong underwear, trickling up the crack of her ass and down her inner thighs like water, then following the same path up again before sliding up the sides of her body to hold her breasts in his hands. Swiftly Elizabeth squirms out of the dress and shrugs off her bra, leaning forward into his grip and enjoying the intensity of his gaze as he takes in her naked body. “Fuckin’ a, Doc,” he coos, stroking the undersides of her breasts with the backs of his fingers and pinching the nipples gently under his thumbs, tugging them a little as if to admire how erect they are, which is very. Then he scoops her up in his arms and lays her down on her back with her head on the pillows, and while he ducks to kiss her mouth she reaches down to pop his button fly and slide the jeans down his slim hips. 

Eyes shut to enjoy his lazy kisses, Elizabeth lets her hands explore Wade’s firm bare ass, grabbing it from underneath to make him grind his hips against her, which elicits a happy grunt, hot breath on her temple. At last she reaches for his erection, eagerly giving it a squeeze that smears a drop of precum across her open thigh. She strokes lower to hold his balls for a moment before grabbing his dick again, firmly. She can’t quite close her hand around it. Relishing the feel of delicate, velvety skin and the rock-hard tool underneath, she looks up at him to find his eyes are fierce and needy. She rubs him against her, grinding her clit on his hardness with the fabric of her panties in between, and he humps back against her for a moment before taking her hand in his with a knowing half-smile and pressing it gently back to the mattress. 

While he shucks his jeans completely and tosses them aside, Wade’s soft mouth presses to her jaw, her neck, her clavicle. His hands go around her ribcage as his lips find her breasts, and she arches her back encouragingly as his mouth opens over her nipple like he’s tasting it. One of his hands dips between her legs and deft fingers sneak around the crotch of her panties to find the molten heat at her core, a single fingertip prodding her open gently to coat itself with moisture, then using that lubrication to coax her lips apart, at last circling her clit experimentally, just gauging her body’s response. She whimpers, catches her breath to smile, then whimpers again helplessly as Wade peels off her last scrap of clothing and bends between her legs to give her pussy a big wet lick. “God, you taste good,” he says, slipping his two middle fingers deep inside her and glancing down to observe the sheen as he withdraws them, then sheathing them again to take up a slow rhythm. His lips rest lightly over her vulva so she can feel as well as hear him murmur, “You’re gonna make me fall in love.”

“Sweet-talker,” she chuckles, rolling her eyes.

“I might be,” Wade allows.

Elizabeth reaches for the foil packet on the nightstand, just holding it for a moment because he’s figured out how to suck her just the way she likes and getting her soft enough to ease in a third finger and make her brilliant mind go blank like a TV screen, shut-off and glowing. She convulses on him with a squeal. His tongue is hot and sloppy, and his mustache tickles her mons against her neatly-trimmed pubic hair.

Catching her breath, Elizabeth scoots up the bed, nudging Wade onto his back so she can try her mouth on that cock of his. With one hand on his chest to keep him down, she kisses up the length of him before parting her lips and sucking the whole thing in ’til it rams the back of her throat and she coughs a little and slides right back off. He peeps down at her one-eyed to make sure she’s okay, and she winks and he grins like a sweepstakes winner. The mucus triggered by her gag reflex she hocks into her fist, pumping him lazily while she basks in his slack-jawed bliss. He’s so charming, vulnerable and happy like this that she feels a little blush of hot affection, and the only thing for it is to go down on him again, her face bobbing lightly up and down while he mumbles something that sounds like “Jeezus.” She wants more of him. With a slurp she pulls off him entirely at last, ripping the condom open and rolling it down from tip to base.

She slings one long leg over him and places the head of his dick at her entrance, smearing it back and forth a little to moisten up the latex before lowering herself onto him, working him into her incrementally, drawing out this first moment of their joining, retreating a just little before slipping down twice as far, while he keeps as still as he can with his hands resting on her thighs so she can lead the way. Once he’s in her she clenches a little, enjoying the sensation of being gently stretched around him, and his breath stutters in response, which is so satisfying that they do it again. Now that they’re both comfortable, she starts fucking him in earnest, lazy strokes up and down his length as she lifts her body over his from a kneeling position. Carefully at first, he begins to fuck her back, following and countering her movements so their bodies work in unison. Now, for the second time, they’re dancing.

Wade reaches up to take her in his arms, one hand guarding her head he rolls her over, kissing her face as he finds his stride. Her legs hook around him and her hands grab his ass a little greedily, digging him in deeper when he might’ve kept it light. His strokes are long and fluid, an easy loping rhythm with an unexpected grace. He cups her face in one hand and looks into her eyes, and with a smile she grabs him by the hair and holds his mouth against hers, fucking him steadily as they kiss until her whole body is glowing and it’s impossible to tell one pleasure from another. 

“Let’s try it like this,” he suggests, maneuvering to embrace her from behind. He caresses her flank for a moment before his hand finds its way back between her legs and strokes her firmly, mirroring the pace of his hips as they roll against her from behind. Elizabeth opens her knees and tucks one of her legs behind Wade’s so he can reach her better, and he licks his fingers and begins to massage her, experimenting with long and short strokes, then a circular motion, and finally settling on a fluttering movement with his fingertips just below her clitoris that makes her a little faint in his arms, and she feels her body squeeze him, pure reflex. She reaches behind her head to clutch at his shoulders and hair so he can’t let up ’til she’s done.

“Yes, yes, Wade, just like that, don’t stop,” she gasps, leveraging herself against the mattress to make him fuck her harder. “If you keep doing that I’ll come.”

“I’m gonna be right behind you, Doc.” His voice his rich and husky, and she can feel him pressing his face against the back of her neck, just behind her ear. His left arm clutches tightly around her waist, holding her in place as his right hand continues to work her. It’s nice, she thinks, to be held in place, to have someone taking care of her for a change. Her orgasm is shining before her in midair. Elizabeth takes a deep breath, holds it, and flings herself over the bright edge.

She’s spasming around him even as the peak of her pleasure recedes, and the movement of his hand on her clit slows to match her breathing, and at the same time his thrusts are speeding up. He hugs her tight, still cupping her sex, groaning into her hair as his rhythm falls apart completely. She keeps it steady for him, grinding firmly back against him as his pace weakens. At last, panting, his body begins to relax. 

They stay like this a minute; he chuckles a little and so does she, just sharing the delight of this unexpected thing that’s happened between them. Before he starts to get soft, he grabs the condom with one hand so it doesn’t slip off as he withdraws, and while he’s flushing it Elizabeth’s gaze wanders idly back up the wall.

“Look like something’s on your mind.” He’s watching her from the bathroom door, long and naked and beautiful, running his hands through his messy hair and wiping himself down with a hand towel. 

“Mm. That painting. It reminds me of New Hampshire.”

“Beautiful place. You ever been?”

“I went to school in Hanover. Sometimes I think about going back. You?”

“Once in a while, in the summer.”

“Maybe I’ll see you up there sometime.”

All of a sudden she urgently wants to be dressed. Dalton’s creeping back into her thoughts, as he always seems to these days, and she won’t make the same scene with the father that she did with the son. She sits up abruptly, rummaging in the bedclothes for her dress. 

“You hittin’ the road?” 

“Yeah, another early shift tomorrow,” she smiles apologetically, stepping into her shoes. “I better go before I get too comfortable.” He returns the smile, shaking his head like he knows better than to expect any different. 

“I’ll see you. You be safe out there, Doc.”

Elizabeth crosses the room, straightening her dress, to give him a last soft kiss goodnight. He doesn’t move to touch her except to return the pressure of her lips.

“You too, Wade.”

She lets herself out. 

In the Jeep she takes a deep breath, warms up the engine, and adjusts the mirror because someone’s head must’ve bumped it. Before pulling out of the parking lot she reaches for an old flannel overshirt she keeps under the backseat. It’s supposed to be springtime but the breeze on the drive home chills her badly. Tomorrow maybe she’ll ask Red to help her put the soft top on. When did it get so cold in Jasper?


End file.
